


Akkorokamui

by pentipus



Series: Character Studies [3]
Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Mythology - Freeform, Other, Rebirth, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-15 00:34:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4586226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentipus/pseuds/pentipus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...regeneration is the process of renewal, restoration, and growth that makes genomes, cells, organisms, and ecosystems resilient to natural fluctuations or events that cause disturbance or damage. Every species is capable of regeneration, from bacteria to humans."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Akkorokamui

I have always felt like a snail that couldn’t form a shell, wet and open and exposed to the world. I’ve pulled these hard things around myself in the hopes that people wouldn’t notice; my weapons, my words, my scowl. Hard things pressed against my soft pink body, a shield made from a despicable detritus.

I am a forgery, I am a fake. Made up of the things I think I should be, rather than the things that actually make me. I tear holes in people where I want to fill them up, I take when I want to give, I split the skin of my knuckles when all I want to do is needle myself back together.

I may look like a man but this body is just for show. I am a mollusc, and I dwell in the dirt.

Guns fit perfectly into my big hands and bones break easily beneath me. I let people stumble into my path and I swallow them whole, I trick people and I cheat and I take and take and take.

There is no god that can save me, no science that can heal me.

I am the shen, I am the Carcolh. I am a cryptid waiting to be discovered, a freakish specimen waiting to be catalogued; a wet sickly thing bottled in brine or pinned to a board.

I am a devil, I am a monster.

I put four bullets in my uncle’s skull, grey slugs ripping through the red web of his flesh, his face a broken mask before me.

 _Turn the wheel and the future changes_.

I looked at the ruin of my uncle, an eternal wreck, and realised that if I made myself, I could unmake myself. I could cut away the rot and grow something new. Lop off the parts that had become rancid and grow them back afresh.

A benevolent beast born again, a monster without a shell.


End file.
